I’m “grated full” — as one of my U.S. history students years ago wrote — of gladness on the day after Thanksgiving (boo black Friday). Dan joined me in Jersey City for my favorite holiday, despite the cold, icy rain and too many people on the streets. He also surprised me by venturing into the city. WE met my oldest friend, Charlotte, at the Modern at MoMa for lunch. The snazziness and high prices were worth it, except the $16 mimosa (it was no different than a $3 one at Rincon Market in Tucson).
Another surprise — after the seven-minute ferry ride from Jersey City across the Hudson — we took in the World Trade Center park with its haunting memorial.
I loved having Brook show us around, watching her and Dan chatting on the subway. What could be more pleasant for me than building those connections in people I love the most?
Dan’s back at the Newark airport waiting to return to our warm and lovely Tucson. Brook and I are relaxing, sipping Planet Oregon Pinot Noir. She finished preparing turkey soup for supper. The splendiferous aroma wafts across the room. In a while we’ll take the Path train back to lower Manhattan to see “Interstellar.”
Tomorrow Brook and I will get to see the Matisse cutouts exhibit at MoMa. A cheerful beginning to the fast approaching 2105. We’re so lucky that our days unfold as they do. Ups and downs, yes, but we’re healthy turkeys.
I’m grateful to yummy farm-fresh turkeys and to the silliness and welcoming presence of family and dear friends, even to a stranger who apologizes for stepping on my foot on the streets of New York.
Turkey soup, sharing caring, homemade biscuits, walking in crisp fresh air, chatting on a subway ride or just sitting around, knowing the next delicious meal will come.
How I wish this acceptance and opportunity could waft around our troubled world.